Decisions
by MaskedKey
Summary: I changed the title because it's not just Abby who has to decide. Abby find an engagement ring from McGee but is not thrilled about it. Established Abby/McGee, Abby/Gibbs romance eventually
1. Chapter 1

Abby rearranged the skull-and-crossbones patterned pillow that had shifted in her coffin the night before. It was larger than the one she normally slept in—made specifically for more voluptuous people. But McGee had been spending the night more often, and she decided to compromise. He would agree to sleep in the coffin, and she would agree to get a bigger one.

Abby liked McGee. It was nice being able to talk to someone about the case-something that she wasn't able to do for fear of babbling something important and confidential. She loved having someone there who could understand the technical and scientific side of life without looking at her like she was speaking a foreign language. And for many it was. They would spend many nights together watching horror movies and discussing the newest scientific breakthroughs and discoveries. She loved his sweetness and tenderness and willingness to learn and explore, both in bed and out.

So Abby wasn't surprised to find McGee's coat draped over her chair, left there as her boyfriend rushed out this morning at the request of Penny. Abby hoped it wasn't too serious, but he didn't elaborate. She picked up the jacket to hang it. A clanking sound as something hit the floor. Something sparkled on the floor. Abby reached down to pick up whatever it was. She paused, her breath caught in her mouth. It was gold and round with what looked to be a diamond attached to it. A ring. An engagement ring. She exhaled.

"Oh, McGee," she groaned. She liked McGee. She liked him a lot and cared enough for him to know that he deserved to marry a woman that thought Timothy McGee was the best guy in the world. But Abby wasn't that woman. Abby Sciuto thought Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs was the best guy in the world.

She remembered… Gibbs' s arms around her, speaking softly to her after Ari tried to shoot her in the lab. Gibbs sitting beside her in the elevator. She may have had a stun gun, brass knuckles, and a pepper spray with her, but nothing made her feel safer than her marine right next to her. Gibbs's strong arms pulling her from the exhaust-filled car that came close to claiming her life. Gibbs lying on a hospital bad, in a coma, his face bandaged but not enough to cover all the marks of battle on his face. Her heart broke looking at him. And then it broke some more when he announced he was retiring.

Abby would often analyze her feelings toward him. Was he a father-figure to her, or was there something more? After all, she did find her silver-haired fox to be attractive. But Abby would always come to the conclusion that her feelings concerning Gibbs didn't matter at all. What did matter was Gibbs himself. He was her protector, her confidante, her magical, psychic superhero, the man who would have no problem beating Godzilla, King Kong, and the Terminator all at once. The man whom Abby could not imagine her life without. And tender hugs and chaste kisses from Gibbs meant more to Abby than passionate embraces from any other man ever could.


	2. Chapter 2

The book found its position in the cradle of his hand as his body found its resting place in the soft armchair. The night had turned chilly, and he had decided to start the fire. The crisp smell filled the living room as the crackling of the flames provided him with warmth—both for his body and his heart.

He had always appreciated these sensations—the warmth of the fire, the softness of his armchair, the smoothness of books—so different from the coldness of the autopsy room and the hardness of the scalpel, not to mention the bodies he was always performing his art on. Ducky loved his work. He loved how death could ironically tell so much about life. But even he needed softness and warmth. He shifted his body slightly in the chair, his fingers gliding over the pages to find its spot. But his thoughts would not let him sink into the tumultuous world of the Tudors.

"What should I do, Ducky?" her voice ranged through his head. Normally, he would have loved to give Abigail some advice, some support, anything. But it had been awhile since Ducky had so thoroughly enjoyed the company and affections of a woman. He smiled fondly as his thoughts lingered on Penny's hands in his, the stars providing cover for their new romance, his heart beating like a schoolboy's.

He wasn't going to tell anyone to break the heart of his Penny's grandson-even if that someone was his dear forensic scientist. Nor was he going to tell Abigail to ignore the doubts lingering in her mind. He hoped a firm but tender 'I cannot get involved in this. You understand, my dear?' would have been enough. And it was—for Abigail, who apologized for getting him involved with a quick, 'Oh, Ducky! I completely forgot about you and McGee's grandmother.' But what may have been enough for Abigail wasn't enough for his mind. As much as he wanted to forget what Abigail told him, as much as he wanted no part in her decision, he knew her decision would change everything. Ducky sighed. He sometimes thought Jethro was too harsh concerning Rule 12. After all, many young people meet and fall in love at work, and it wouldn't be right to keep them apart. But at times like these, he perfectly understood why Gibbs had those rules.

As much he loved the raven-haired goth, he wished she had come to this realization sooner, not after a year of dating with young Timothy ready to propose to her. But he realized a long time ago that Abigail was her own person. Ducky assumed that Abigail had hoped that Timothy would never propose to her, never ask to make that kind of commitment, and she could simply continue being his girlfriend without ever having to analyze her feelings for another man.

"Ducky," she had said earlier that day. "If you were married and she loved another man more than you, if she cared for another man more than you, would you like that? Even if there was nothing romantic or physical going on between them?"

Ducky sighed. No, he wouldn't. But he didn't want to take sides either. "Perhaps you should talk to Jethro about how you feel, my dear."

Ducky hoped that Abigail would tell Jethro her feelings, whatever they were, and get a firm, "I never thought of you as anything but a daughter." And Abigail would feel free to marry Timothy, and Ducky could continue his happy romance with Penny,. Ducky reclined his head against the softness of his chair. But hopes and realities were two different things, and the most seasoned psychological expert didn't dare venture into the romantic feelings of the Marine sniper. And whatever happened, Ducky knew he would be there to pick up the pieces.


	3. Chapter 3

"Thank you for that, Penny," he kissed his grandmother's cheek. Tim McGee knew his grandmother would have no issue being an accomplice in his secret affairs, but a thank you was required nevertheless, for he knew he could not pull this off without her. McGee was not a person obsessed with the clandestine. His job as an NCIS special agent and the enigmatic language of a computer program, which he always quickly solved, was more than enough for him. And he had no desire to have secrecy in his private life. However, he and Abby had been together for sometimes now. Some would even say they were dating, but Abby and he wouldn't—because that would be breaking Rule 12, and no one wanted to break Gibb's rules, especially not his girlfriend.

McGee loved Abby. He loved her bubbliness, her loyalty. And though his mouth told her not to worry after he came back from a particular dangerous mission, he would have been lying if he said he wasn't just a little glad that she felt that way. She appreciated how smart she was. He was tired of constantly having to explain the technical language that made as much sense to him as English. He was tired of having to constantly dumb it down to everyone around him, everyone except Abby. Abby understood the language almost as perfectly as he did. And he loved her for it. He would tease her about her obsession with bad music that involved more screaming than actual music, and she would tease him about his involvement in the role playing games, where he could be someone he could never be in real life. But they both knew the teasing was good-natured. They loved and cared for each other, and McGee thought it was the perfect time to propose.

His eyes lingered over the hard, gray headstones, each with a name, a date; each telling its own story. He had been an NCIS agent long enough to know that death never just ended things; it just produced more questions. The names and dates surrounding him, all representing things unsaid and not done, left McGee depressed. But he knew Abby would love it, so he had asked his grandmother to call him in the morning to get away to set up the area. He hated to lie to Abby, but this was surely worth it. His fingers grasped over the black roses in his hands, feeling the smooth silkiness inside his palm. He yanked, causing the black petals to rain down on the path. And at the end of path, he would go down on one knee and ask Abigail Sciuto to become his wife. He smiled. Of course, he would ask Tony to be the best man. He laughed as he thought of the wiseass remark Tony would make, probably something from a movie and some teasing about how Probie managed to get engaged before him. Abby would surely pick Ziva as her bridesmaid. The two women weren't always close, but now the Israeli-American was like a sister to the gothic forensic scientists. And McGee was certain that Gibbs would walk Abby down the aisle.

Abby and Gibbs were close. Really close. McGee knew that. He couldn't help but notice how her eyes lit up whenever she talked about his boss. "Stop it, McGee," he would often scold himself. "It's just a closeness that fathers and daughters have." But there was always a dull sensation in the pit of McGee's stomach whenever he thought of his girlfriend and his boss, a questioning fear about whether a father and his daughter would stand as close to each other as Abby and Gibbs did. Whether a father and his daughter would say things to each other that Abby and Gibbs did. He would laugh his concern away, telling himself they were only acting that way for Tony's benefit, teasing the senior agent. But as he looked down at the remaining roses in his hand, McGee wondered if he was making the right decision.


	4. Chapter 4

The ground provided a comforting support as the sole of her sneakers hit the pavement. Ziva loved the tightness of her stomach, her lungs expanding and contracting with air, the slight pain in her legs and arms. She ran, inhaling, exhaling, the fragrance of the trees filling her body. Ziva was never one to enjoy walks through the forest—not since her father left her there. Ever since that day, she hated forests. Hated the tall trees packed close together, blocking the sunlight. But running was different.

This time, however, she wasn't thinking about Eli. She wasn't thinking about Rivka and Talia. She wasn't even thinking about Tony.

This time, however, Ziva was thinking about what happened that day at work, or specifically what didn't happen. Last Thursday, McGee pulled her away on the sidewalk after the day's work ended. "Ziva, can you help me with something?" McGee had whispered to her. "I need help picking out a ring for Abby." Her heart jumped inside. Ziva was never one of those girls that planned their wedding before they ever had a boyfriend. But even she could appreciate what Abby and McGee had, and she was happy for them.

She tried not to be excited, and usually not being excited was easy for Ziva, but even the combination of being Eli David's daughter, her Mossad training, and working under Special Agent Gibbs couldn't prevent her from anticipating Abby's giddiness, the ring sparkling on her finger. She had gone with him Saturday morning to the local jewelry shop. He wasn't sure if the ring should be more Abby-ish, something that looked like it came from a more medieval time period. But Ziva pushed McGee to a more traditional engagement ring, wondering if Abby's Catholicism—as much as she didn't practice—would appreciate tradition that time. And she knew the morbidity of a proposal in a graveyard provided a nice contrast and was perfectly suited for Abby.

So when Ziva did not see the ring on Abby's finger, she was worried. "What happened, McGee?" she hissed at him. "Did Abby not want your proposal?"

McGee shook his head. "I didn't propose, Ziva," he had said.

"Why not?" her eyes bore into him.

Her partner and friend sighed. I'm just not sure of her feelings for me anymore."

"Nonsense, McGee!" she slapped the technical agent's arms.

"No, Ziva. I'm serious. Have you wondered about the relationship between Abby and Gibbs. Their closeness?"

Ziva nodded. Of course, she knew Abby and Gibbs were close. She was his favorite, and he was her hero. Everyone knew that. But what was the problem? "They're like father and daughter, McGee."

The other agent exhaled slowly. "Are you sure about that, Ziva?"

"What are you saying, McGee? That Abby is cheating on you with Gibbs! Are you insane? She would never. _He _would never."

"No, no. I'm not worried about them doing anything. It's more about her feelings."

"You think she has _feelings _for Gibbs?" Ziva was a trained assassin, knowledgeable in the art of fighting and covert operations. Deciphering romantic feelings and what one felt for someone else, however, wasn't her strong-suit—especially when it involved Gibbs. "Did something happen? Did you catch something?" That's how she always found answers, by keeping her ears and eyes opened.

"No. Nothing. Just years of seeing them together," He sighed. "Maybe I'm just being paranoid."

Their conversation revolved in Ziva's mind as she ran. Abby and Gibbs? Abby and _Gibbs_? McGee officially needed to stop spending so much time on his computers, since they were obviously frying his brain cells. But the deeper she ran into the forest, she wasn't so sure. If Eli treated her the same way Gibbs treated Abby, would she have been happy or creeped out? Unfortunately, Ziva never had a close enough relationship with her father to tell.


	5. Chapter 5

"And this is why Rules 12 exists, McGee!" his boss voice thundered in the background. Anthony DiNozzo was certain that even Mel Gibson in Braveheart didn't feel as uncomfortable as he did when Mel's character William Wallace was being disemboweled alive. The tension between the Probie and Abby was palpable, and Tony didn't like it one bit.

He casually placed his elbow on Ziva's desk, smiling winsomely at the Israeli-American agent, whose brown curls were falling lovingly around her face. He and Ziva had dated for a little bit but had decided to stop before things got out of hand. Of course, that was her decision—the ultimate emotionless (though hot and sexy) killer Mossad assassin. If it were up to him, he and Ziva would still be together—or at least together enough for a certain kind of sleepover.

But the tension between Abby and McGee made him wonder whether Ziva was right in her decision to end it after all.

"I need you to be 100% percent on this case, McGee," his boss continued. "There's a dead marine and a young girl missing. The last thing anyone needs is you moping around about your girlfriend. Got it, McGee?"

"Yes, Boss," Probie's voice rang out in agreement and was it resentment Tony heard? Nah! He was surely imagining it.

The senior agent leaned his head toward the former-Mossad. "Poor Probie. Sure, he's a McGeek, but this still sucks for him. What happened between him and Abby, anyway?"

"She needed a break, Tony." Her usual curt reply.

"A break?"

"Yes, Tony, a break. She said she needed time to think about things. Needed time to figure things out."

"Got it, David. It still sucks, though."

Ziva nodded, "Yes, Tony. It does."

He wondered if he should quote something from a movie, which would suit this situation perfectly. But somehow he doubted it would make things any better. As much as Tony loved teasing McGee, even he knew this was not a good time.

Perhaps some singing would liven up the mood. "I just met a girl…" he began, and stopped. Perhaps singing about a girl, even one whose name is Maria and not Abby was not the best thing. _Think, DiNozzo, think. How to cheer McGee up. _He couldn't believe he actually wanted to cheer the Probie. "Row, row, row your boat," Tony began again. Surely, boats were a safe topic for a song.

"Shut up, Tony!" McGee yelled. Guess McGee didn't want to hear about boats either.

The phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. "Got it, Abbs. Be right there." His boss spoke tenderly into the receiver.

DiNozzo took a peak over at McGee's desk, wondering how the Probie took the mention of his girlfriend's (former girlfriend's? Ziva did say they were just on a break. But in Tony's experience, when a girl said she wanted a break, that was usually just a nice way for them to actually break up. Not that it happened often to Anthony DiNozzo. Usually, he was the one doing the dumping, of course.) McGee was glaring at his boss's back. Guess he wasn't taking the mention of Abby's very well.

He walked over to the Israeli's desk again. "Is it just me, or is McGee pissed off at Gibbs for some reason."

Ziva sighed. "McGee suspects something."

"About what? Did Gibbs do something?"

"I don't know, Tony!" the woman hissed under her breath. "McGee thinks Abby wants a break because she has feelings for Gibbs."

DiNozzo stared at her. He had often watched movies of a certain nature involving a boss and his subordinate, and Tony would sometimes imagine himself as the boss. Though, there was couple of times when he entertained the possibility of him and Director Shepard in her office. But Abby and Gibbs?

"Does she?" he asked.

"I don't know, Tony! At first I thought McGee was crazy, but the more I think about it, I'm not so sure."

Tony looked up at his boss. _The lucky bastard if it's true. _


	6. Chapter 6

Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs felt the wood conforming to his every thought and action, his hands callused from years of fighting and building. One of his ex-wives had told him that if he spent as much time caring for their relationship as he did for his boats, he would be wonderful husband. But people were too complicated, and boats didn't die and leave you, shattering your heart.

"Gibbs, are you there?" a voice called out. "I need to talk to you."

He looked at to see Abby standing at the top of the basement stairs. This wasn't the first time she had stood in his basement. One time, she pleaded for him to tell her that he loved her. That she was like a daughter to him. Like a daughter? Gibbs never questioned the nature of his feelings toward his Abby. He never analyzed them. All he knew was that she was the most important woman in his life—more important than his past loves like Mann and Hart ever were. Maybe even the most important _person _in his life.

"Yeah, Abbs. I'm right here. Is everything all right?" She was not her usual bubbly self, but he figured the whole thing between her and McGee had something to do with it. Gibbs sighed. He felt happy that she trusted him enough to confide in him, but Gibbs wasn't sure he was the best person to come for relationship advice. That needed to be another rule: don't ask anyone who has been divorced three times for relationship advice.

"Yeah, Gibbs." He heard his favorite girl take a deep breath.

"What is it, Abbs?" If it was anyone else, he knew he would have lost patience with them a long time ago. But this was not anyone else. This was Abby.

"Have you ever thought about us together? You know—together, together. And it's totally okay if you haven't because I'm not sure what I feel and I really don't want to put pressure on you, Gibbs. But I found an engagement ring in McGee's jacket, and it just left me wondering about things between us-not that I'm saying there are things between us, or that I even have a thing for you, or maybe I do. I don't know. And Ducky said I should come talk to you, but I was afraid at first. But here I am." The words gushed out of her mouth like a fountain.

The Marine Gunnery Sergeant stared at the forensic scientist. He would be lying if he told her his thoughts never entertained the possibility of them together, the scent of her giving him unwanted thoughts the times he stood close to her, hugged her, kissed her on the cheek. But he would always push those thoughts away, never wanting to ruin their relationship, never wanting to take advantage of her in the moments when she needed him the most, when she trusted him the most. Gibbs would never let anyone hurt or take advantage of Abby—including himself. And he was more than happy to just be her protector and her friend. Gibbs smiled. He would never imagine an effervescent goth would want to be friends with someone like him.

And as the raven-haired beauty stared at him, he wanted to lie. To tell her that he thought of her as nothing more than a daughter. Let her mind be free of doubts as she went and married Agent McGee. He was happy for them, even if the Agent did almost let Abby be poisoned by fumes to death. He wanted to beat McGee to a pulp at that time, but Abby forgave him, and so did Gibbs. And surely McGee learned his lesson. He would be a wonderful husband to Abby. Not like Gibbs, with all his baggage.

He opened his mouth to tell her no, that he loved her, but not like that. Never like that. It felt dry, not letting him speak. That never bothered him before, but the woman before him was demanding an answer with her eyes.

"I need to know, Gibbs," Abby softly whispered. "I cannot be the wife of another man if you feel something for me."

"Of course, I feel something for you, Abbs." He felt love and admiration and respect for her. He felt fear and anger when he thought of something bad happening to her, someone hurting her.

"No, something _more_."

Gibbs stared at Abby. "Do you _want_ me to feel something more for you?"

She sighed. "I don't know, Gibbs. All I know is that you mean everything to me, but I'm sure you know that. You know everything. And if you want, I would love to give us a try."

Gibbs stared. He was never one for words, never one to analyze his thoughts and feelings. He learned a long time ago in the Corps that too much thinking and analyzing could leave one in a shitload of trouble. Sometimes the best thing to do was to act.

He moved toward her, his lips clashing with hers. He waited for her to stop him, to say "eww." He waited for his gut to tell him that this wasn't right. But all he felt was the softness of her lips against his, caressing his mouth and the strong sensation that he was supposed to be here, in this moment. She was his girl, his Abby. He had always known that he would always protect her and be there for her, no matter what. But now, with his hands in her hair and his lips on hers, he knew he wanted to be the man who made her the happiest she ever felt.

He smiled at the woman beaming up at him, "A try sounds good."


	7. Chapter 7

The young medical examiner felt the flesh of the body lying before him give way as he pushed down onto the scalpel. His mentor left the autopsy room to grab a bite to eat, and Palmer wanted to do the best job for his lovable boss. He was glad Ducky was his superior and not Gibbs, whom he was afraid of. Palmer often tried to hide his comfortableness concerning Gibbs and wondered if he was at all successful.

When he first started performing autopsies, the horror of cutting into people, especially as lovely and beautiful as the woman lying on the cold table before him, gave him nightmare. But Palmer learned a while ago to accept the necessity of this. The body—no matter how beautiful was, after all, lifeless and dead, and the only thing left to do for her was to catch the perp who killed her. He knew his skills would help the NCIS agents, whom he considered to be friends, to do just that. Their main suspect was this woman's former boyfriend, whom she dumped several days ago. Apparently, from what Palmer heard, he wasn't too happy.

Palmer was glad that McGee was taking his break up with Abby well. Not that McGee would ever do anything like this to the forensic scientist no matter how well he was taking it or not, but still—Palmer was glad. Things were extremely tensed between them at first, but it seemed like McGee was accepting this. He even saw McGee and Abby laugh together in her lab as their fingers clanked across the keyboard.

At first, everyone—including Palmer, no, especially Palmer- was shocked when they saw Gibbs kiss Abby not on the cheek as he sometimes did but on the lips. The only thing that kept Palmer from staring too long as Gibbs's eyes narrowing at him. "Isn't there somewhere you have to be, Palmer?" the former marine sniper asked, every word sending shivers down Palmer's spine.

But soon everyone accepted the relationship between the head NCIS agent and forensic scientist. Interestingly, Palmer noticed that very little else—besides the position of their kisses—changed between Gibbs and Abby. After all, they had always been close. Very close. Palmer just never realized how close. He wondered if anyone else did, especially if McGee did. Is it strange that your girlfriend left you for your boss, he wanted to ask. But Palmer decided it was best to keep his mouth shut as he imagined Gibbs glaring at him for daring to ask such a question. But Palmer noticed that McGee was taking this news very well—like he had known, had suspected. Palmer supposed that was why McGee was a federal agent.

Finishing his examination, he decided to step out of the autopsy room and into the world outside for a breath of fresh air.

"Hey, McGee!" Abby voice rang out. "You will not believe who I ran into recently." Her voice was bubbling over with excitement. But this was Abby. Something had to be seriously wrong for her not to be excited. "Ruby! Remember her—the scientist that we met from the country. She helped us solve a case. She asked about you. You should definitely ask her out, McGee."

"Really? Great! Thanks, Abby!" Palmer could see the Agent's face lit up.

Her arms wrapped around McGee's body in a hug. Palmer smiled to himself. He often found it sad that all relationships didn't end like that—when they had to end—with a hug.

He walked outside, his fingers pushing a familiar phone number on his cellphone.

"Hey, Jimmy," a woman's voice spoke on the other line. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's great. Just calling to tell you that I love you." Palmer smiled at the phone and knew his wife was smiling right back.

**The end!**

I was actually going to end it with the last chapter, but I felt it would be wrong to leave McGee all miserable, so I wrote this chapter/epilogue. Thank you for the reviews! I don't write a lot for fun, and this is my first NCIS fic, so feedback is greatly appreciated.


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